


Never A Dry Moment

by LadyAmalthea (orphan_account)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Connor is an alcoholic, Drugs, Family Member Death, Gen, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Hank is an alcoholic, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Human!Connor, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Investigations, M/M, Police Procedural, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-06-16 03:25:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15427980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/LadyAmalthea
Summary: Detective Connor Kelly has been assigned a partner, Lt. Hank Anderson, in the Detroit Police's investigation on Blue Blood, a new drug that has resulted in lost lives across the city. They are both terrible drinkers, have a host of personal problems, but somehow work well together.





	1. Starting Somewhere

Hank Anderson sat at Jimmy’s Bar, having just finished a shot of the house special whiskey. At Jimmy’s, it was always happy hour for the lieutenant. He had pulled strings for some of the bar’s patrons, not to mention the owner.

 

The front door swung open, Hank was unfazed by the familiar squeaking metal. 

 

The new patron walked through the bar slowly before stopping just beyond Hank. He turned, looking directly at the officer. “You must be Lieutenant Anderson?” The man asked.

 

Hank turned on his stool to get a look at this fool. 

 

A younger man, somewhere in his late 20’s, dressed in a DPD office uniform, stood before him. Smoothed brown hair that matched his eyes, which had a slight purple hue beneath them from a lack of sleep. He sat next to Hank, and ordered a shot of tequila.

 

“Who the fuck are you?” Anderson asked.

 

The man downed the tequila before he responded. “Your new partner.” After a moment, he held out his right hand. “Assistant Detective Connor Kelly, sir.”

 

Hank shook his hand; he knew exactly who this kid was. “So you’re the rookie that Fowler mentioned.”

 

“Captain Fowler believes our combined investigative histories will make us good partners for the Blue Blood case.” Connor downed his drink with ease.

 

Blue Blood was the “hip, new terror drug"... and extremely dangerous. Worse than Red Ice was. It was pumped into a person’s system through their blood; causing hysteria, violent tendencies, and usually ended in cardiac arrest in overdoses. Some users reported strange out-of-body experiences, as well. 

 

“There is a homicide scene waiting for us, Lieutenant. I would appreciate it you finished your drink and we could get going.” Connor gestured toward the door.

 

“Ohhhh, no... I'm not babysitting some kid to go investigate some dead junkie who overdosed.” 

 

Connor stood up, “I don’t think you heard me, Lieutenant. It's a homicide; the suspect was on Blue Blood, not the victim.” He paid for his drink by placing a paper bill down on the table, “Would you like to join me, or shall I tell Fowler that you resign?” 

 

Hank rolled his eyes, deciding to indulge in the rookie. He could tell Connor was faking his attitude; between his baby face and the quiver in his voice that Hank could read clear as day. “G’night Jim.”

 

 

Hank offered to drive to the scene in his car, that way he could hone straight home afterward. They arrived on the scene, there were already dozens of reporters outside. This was the first moment that Connor’s brave face faltered. “Stay behind me, don't say anything.” Hank instructed as they got out of the car.

 

They walked up to the house, their colleague Ben waiting by the door. “Evenin’ Hank. I see you've got the new kid with you,” he said, teasingly. “Welcome to the party, Connor…” he said sarcastically.

 

He briefed the two as they walked into the house. An emptied bag with the luminous cyan liquid lining the edges sat on the coffee table, along with some old dishes and trash. The whole place was a mess. The victim was the homeowner: Carlos Ortiz. There was evidence of another person, but the crime lab hadn't been able to identify him yet. 

 

Another officer, Detective Reed, waited inside. “Finally made it, eh Anderson? Thought you wouldn't show until your hangover tomorrow.” 

 

“Shove it, Gavin. Don’t you have a job to do?” Hank asked. Connor following behind, already looking around and observing details without acknowledging the two men’s spat.

 

“Well look who it is. The prodigal police academy suck-up who happened to get a couple of easy cases.” Gavin walked up to Connor, pushing a finger in his chest. Connor had barely heard him, too distracted looking at evidence, and looked like a deer lost in the headlights. “Maybe lucky enough for Hank to improve his record.”

 

“Detective, please let us do our jobs.” Connor said, trying to escape the discussion.

 

Gavin raised his hands, “Whatever, ya fucking prick.” 

 

Hank began to look around, “So… victim had a history of drug use but tested negative for Blue Blood post-mortem.” Connor silently looked through the room, not responding to Hank at all. “What do you think, Detective?”

 

“There was definitely someone else here. There are two mugs of stale coffee on the table, but one doesn't smell right. It was laced with the drug.” He stated, looking at the baseball bat on the floor. “There is blood on the bat, but the victim was stabbed, there is no blunt trauma.”

 

The lieutenant raised his eyebrows, “all right, then where did the suspect go? All the doors are deadlocked from the inside, unless he had a key.”

 

Connor stepped back into the hallway, noticing a sliding door in the ceiling. Hank watched as he grabbed a chair from the dining room, and began to climb up. “There’s fresh blood on this handle, sir.” He spoke more quietly, “watch my back.”

 

Connor jumped up into the attic, and it took a moment for it to dawn on Hank what Connor was inferring. “Shit, Connor get back here!” 

 

Hank couldn't jump up there, he was too tall to crouch given how shallow the crawl space was. He heard Connor’s careful steps, but was freaking out. Best case scenario is no one is up there, but Connor hadn't seemed wrong about anything yet. “Connor….Connor!” Hank barked.

 

The young detective ducked under the low beams, moving carefully. It had been approximately 8 hours since the victim’s death. Even with the effects of the drug, the murderer could still be alive and alert. 

 

Something caught his eyes, toward the back of the tight storage space. A man was sitting in the corner, kneeling low and shaking. Hands covered his face, until he turned upwards to look at Connor.

 

“He laced my drink to drug me and started attacking me… I owed him money. I was just defending myself, but… I couldn't stop. I couldn't control myself. Please… please don’t tell them I'm here.”

 

Connor was taken aback, hesitating before calling down. “I found the suspect,  Lieutenant!”

 

He escorted the man out of the attic, where the man was detained the moment after climbing down the ladder. When he saw Hank, he carried a mix of pride and guilt on his face. Hank patted his back, as they went outside.

 

There was an awkward pause as Hank looked at his car, and back to Connor. “Lieutenant… I… was wondering if you were going to stop by any liquor stores before returning home?” 

 

Hank shrugged, “I was gonna grab some beer, but just at a gas station.” Connor seemed disappointed. “You need a lift home, or anything?” 

 

“Fowler said I live fairly close to your house when I was filling out my paperwork. If you happen to be going to the Citgo on Main Ave, I could walk home from there.” Connor explained. “If it wouldn't be any trouble,” he added.

 

“I can drop you at home, Con, it's no big deal…”

 

“NO! No… that's okay,” Connor reacted defensively. “I like getting in a walk each night, it clears my mind.” 

 

Hank nodded, “All right, gas station it is. Pile in, Connor.”

 

As they strapped into the car, Connor seemed a bit more at ease. “I really appreciate this, Lieutenant.” 

 

“We’re not on the clock right now; just Hank is fine.” Hank said, turning the car radio on, but volume low.

 

“Right… Hank. Thank you.”The driver saw a small smile grow on his passenger’s face.  

 

Hank pulled up to one of the gas pumps, getting out to go inside to pay first. Connor was getting out as well, looking around. “I’m just a few blocks from here. I'll see you at the station tomorrow,” he waved a little awkwardly. 

 

“Good night, kid.” Hank waved him back as he sauntered into the convenience store.

 

Connor waited for Hank to truly be out of sight, before crossing the street to an old liquor store. He stopped in to get his usual. He wasn't going to sleep, so might as well drink. The cheap vodka bottle was stuffed in a paper bag, which he nursed as he walked to the other side of the cramped apartment complex and up to his small studio.

 

Connor had insomnia. Not every once in a while, but most nights. 

 

When he got inside, hearing the muffled television coming from his downstairs neighbor, he flopped on his couch with a pair of earphones. The best he could do to make it through work was to meditate through the night while drunk. A good night is when he actually passes out for a little while.

 

Without drowning himself in music, the night would be a symphony of police sirens and loud neighbors. 

 

He threw on some Mozart and lulled himself into a drunken haze.


	2. Getting Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Hank open up about their pasts; but Connor has a hard time accepting Hank's help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MUCHHH longer chapter than the first one...

Connor may have had a drinking problem, but at least he showed up to work on time. Their interrogation started late because Hank didn’t get in until 2 in the afternoon. It was aggravating to say the least, for Connor. He had gotten in early, taking a 5am bus because he got sober and bored sitting at home. When it came time to interrogate the suspect, Connor had already prepared several scenarios and managed to extract a solid confession. Hank looked impressed, which made Connor feel a little more confident. The day flew by with all of the paperwork they had to go through.

 

When 7pm rolled around, Hank was starting to leave, and Connor stood up just after him. Hank noticed that Connor was still kinda pale and sometimes unfocused. So when the detective asked “Lieutenant… I… would you mind dropping me off again?” Well, Hank decided to do some digging on the kid.

 

Hank pulled his car out if the parking lot, not even bothering with the radio. “So… no offense kid… but you look like you’ve got two shiners and it looks even worse than yesterday,” he asked, trying not to sound too concerned. 

 

“I don’t sleep a lot… I'm used to it, though,” Connor replied. 

 

Hank huffed, “Well, since we don’t need to go in so bright and early tomorrow, what would you say to a drink or two at my place. I'll walk you home, you said it's not that far, right?”

 

Connor was conflicted; he wouldn't pass up a free drink, but wasn't sure about getting so close to this aloof partner.

 

“Sure… but I can walk home myself. I'll have some liquid courage in me, right?” He joked, which Hank actually chuckled at. 

 

“Sure, sure… whatever floats your boat.” Hank turned passed the gas station, through a small suburban neighborhood to his small one-story. 

 

The sound of a large dog barking came from inside the house. Connor perked up a little at the sound, suddenly thrilled when the door opened and a large St. Bernard nearly tackled him.

 

“Sumo, off! What would you like, Connor? Whiskey ok?” Hank strode through his own home to the kitchen, removing his jacket and pouring two neat whiskeys at the dining table.

 

Connor was distracted by giving Sumo scratches around his ears, but called over “Yes, thanks.” 

 

Hank sat in front of his tumbler glass, and slid the other over to Connor once he was sitting down.

 

“Let’s play a game, kid. Tell me something about yourself, then take a sip. I'll play too; I'd like to get to know my partner a little better.” Hank said, raising his glass to toast to it. Connor lifted his glass to Hank’s in agreement. “I'll go first then. I first started drinking heavily after the red ice bust I helmed years ago,” and took a sip.

 

“I throw some whiskey in with my coffee most work mornings,” Connor took one as well.

 

Hank tapped his glass… he wanted to start off with less personal stuff and move gradually; he hoped this plan worked. He was eager to find out what makes the kid tick, and why he plays the strong, angst type despite looking like a goddamn puppy in human form.

 

“I've had Sumo since he was a pup, he was twelve pounds when I got him, and now he’s one hundred and seventy.” Hank said satisfactorily.

 

Connor took a moment to think, deciding to test the waters of Hank’s ‘game’. “I used to have a dog when I lived with my adoptive mother,” he said. “He ran away after three years, I never knew what happened to him…” he glanced over at Hank’s dog snoozing on the couch.

 

Hank smiled;  _ now _ they were getting somewhere. “I nearly dropped out of college because of a girl, but stayed because of a guy.” Hank said. Years ago, talking about that with anyone besides his family would have bothered him, but that was old news compared to the shit show his life had been since. 

 

Connor seemed to pick up on the implication of Hank’s sexuality, that he should do the same. “I came out as gay after my first year of college, except to my family. I told after graduating.” He paused before taking his sip; Hank could tell he was avoiding specific details.

 

Hank watched him closely; he trusted this kid could hold his liquor, but Hank was hard to keep up with compared to most. “I was married about a decade ago; the divorce was ugly, which is why I'm in this hellhole.” he finished his glass, pouring another one while he waited for Connor to speak.

 

“I was prescribed sleeping pills for my insomnia but… I can't take them with alcohol. Had to stop doing one of them.” 

 

_ Oh,  _ Hank thought.  _ That's interesting... _

 

“I take antidepressants, but all they've done is lower my tolerance.” Hank chuckled a little.

 

Connor’s eyes flicked away for a moment, “That's rather dangerous to mix those two, I hope you trust your liver?”

 

Hank replied, “Your turn,” pouring him a drink to change the topic. He knew exactly what it did to his liver.

 

“I truly do love my job, but I've had a rough past with some colleagues.” Connor stated vaguely, his sips were getting larger.

 

Hank braced himself, he now wondered if this was a good idea or not, but they are already too far in. “My son died in a car accident when he was 6. I held him in my arms as he died.” Hank drank nearly an entire shot; no going back now.

 

Connor cringed a little. Hank wasn't sure if it was from the lack of emotion in his confession, or if Connor wasn't sure how he could top that. Maybe both…

 

“My adoptive mom also took in my brother. He is doing well enough, but she has...she has a very bad case of dementia.” Connor wanted to finish his glass and finish this game. He wanted to go home, and black out so he couldn't remember anything. Not just this conversation, but his past as well.

 

Now Hank was taken aback; he had some old buddies go through that with their parents. It would only get worse and worse… he noticed Connor’s face had a dark and exhausted look. A few more rounds wouldn't kill either of them, though.

 

“My ex tried to get me to go to AA after the divorce.” He chuckled, “That didn't work.” 

 

Connor smiled briefly, “I solved my last two cases just after finishing off a bottle of scotch. I normally don’t keep trash around, but I haven't recycled the two bottles yet to see if it's a good lucky charm, or something.” He said. “Also, I agree. AA doesn't do shit.”

 

Hank poured them each another shot and a half; Connor still had to get home after all. “I haven't solved a case in almost a year, usually since I don't see most cases through to the end. They get picked up by other officers after I've done the dirty work, but I hate filing reports.” Hank said bitterly. 

 

Connor’s eyelids grew heavy as the burning in his gut made him a little braver. “The only case I ever relinquished… I knew the victim personally.” He polished off the rest of the whiskey in his glass, steadying himself by the table as he stood up. “I should head home…” He said, starting toward the door. 

 

Hank downed the rest of his, he was hoping they would play a little longer, things were just getting interesting. “If you take my couch for the night we can keep going,” he extended the offer as he got a bottle of vodka from the freezer.

 

And well… Connor wasn't going to say no to some vodka. 

 

They kept going for another hour. Hank’s career, Connor’s education, most of it had stepped away from the personal, heavy shit for a while.

 

Until Connor's last one for the night. His cheeks and joints were bright red from the alcohol. “My first partner… my last partner...died while we were working on a case.”

 

Hank’s blood rushed a little cold. Shit… Fowler would've known about it, but still paired them up together? Did Fowler know about Hank’s deathwish somehow?

 

He was going to take Connor’s glass, but the young officer gripped it hard. “We were at the crime scene, and he tripped and fell several stories through an open shaft. If I hadn't been drinking, I probably could've saved him.” He flipped the cup over, swaying out of his seat. “it… it was my fault.” The voice cracked, sending a chill down Hank’s back. He was fading in and out of lucidity, but reacted when Connor stumbled trying to get to the couch.

 

“Connor?” He asked the trembling form kneeling on the floor. He got out of his chair, going around to get a better look at his partner. 

 

His eyes were shut, but spilling hot tears. He started to fold into himself with his hands on his head. Hank started to drag him up into his feet, at least enough to get him to the couch. Connor did so fairly compliantly, liquid still pouring down his face.

 

Hank was usually the one having the meltdown in this house, he couldn't handle someone else’s. He tried to help by ruffling Connor’s hair before telling him to go to sleep, only to have Connor grab he hand and hold it between both or his. He was about to say something, but decided against it and dropped Hank’s hand. “Have a good night. Thanks for the drinks.”

 

Hank retreated to his bedroom, Sumo jumping up beside him as part of their nightly routine. He felt a little guilty leaving the kid alone like this, but at least in his living room he was less alone than if he was at his own place.

 

And Hank couldn’t bring himself to do anything stupid to himself with Connor just outside… maybe this was good for both of them.

 

\------

 

The following morning, Connor let Hank sleep in and went to the work by bus. He left around 5am leaving a note behind. He had gotten four hours of sleep; it was like a new record. He walked the forty-minutes to his apartment to shower and change clothes, and then left do some work at the station.

 

Hank showed up just before noon, glad to see Connor’s complexion looked a little less like he was a zombie. As he settled in, Connor offered to get is partner a coffee. Hank agreed, pulling open the file of notes Connor had started.

 

Connor stepped out of the bullpen and into the staff room, colliding shoulders with, who other, than Gavin Reed. “Anderson’s got quite the obedient intern, huh?” Connor continued to prepare coffee the way Hank requested, trying to ignore Gavin. “HEY! I’m talking to you, dipshit!”

 

Connor turned toward Gavin, “I’m his partner, not his intern. Although… that’s not something I think you could handle, Detective Reed.”

  
  
  


  
Hank was distracted by his case files, so it wasn’t until he heard gasps and yelling from the office kitchen. “Ohhhhhh shit…” Hank said, getting up.   
  
Gavin was laying on the floor, a pained expression on his face. Standing a few feet away was Connor, his nose leaking blood, being held back by Officer Chen. 

 

“The  **fuck** is going on here?” Hank asked. He was thankful that Fowler was taking a personal day.

 

“Your fuckin’ partner suplexed me!” Gavin sputtered, not wanting to move from the aching pain.

 

Hank looped up at Connor to confirm, who nodded. “I was only defending myself, I swear.” He said, hands up, looking apologetically at Chen.

 

Chen stepped away, looking down at Reed. “Well, Gavin?”

 

Gavin coughed, rolling his eyes as he realized he had to tell the truth. “He said if I kept insulting you, Hank, he’d kick my ass.”

 

“And then you swung your fist in my face and yelled ‘prove it’...” Connor finished a little heartlessly. Hank stepped over to him, seeing the prepared cup of coffee on the counter. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant.”

 

Hank took the coffee, patting Connor on the back, and started walk to his desk. “C’mon Connor, let’s get some work done. Oh, and watch your step!” Hank deliberately stepped over Gavin’s legs, motioning for his partner to follow him.

 

Gavin cursed out strings of expletives as Chen helped him stand up. Connor silently followed Hank back to their desks, smiling slightly. “Reed had it fuckin’ coming. About time somebody gave him a wake up call.” Hank handed Connor a box of tissues for his nose. “Another case just came in, go clean up and let’s get the fuck outta here.” Hank asked.

 

Connor wiped the blood from his face in the bathroom, returning to find Hank ready to go. They drove across town to the location on the report, Connor reading through it aloud as they traveled. 

 

“A man was reported to be coming and going from an abandoned building. People in the area say he is frequently carrying boxes in and out from an old car. We suspect that he is a Blue Blood trafficker: directly from the source to the local suppliers. If we can find his source; we can stop the whole thing,” Connor explained. He looked through some of the photos and security cameras. “About six-foot four-inches, last reported wearing dark, baggy clothing.”

 

They pulled up and parked across from the building, both noting an old, decrepit pickup truck parked close to a door. Connor stayed behind Hank, getting pictures of the inside of the building as much as possible. They got close to the middle of the first floor, when they heard the clunking of footsteps dragging some large container down the staircase around the corner. They stayed behind a wall out of sight, watching the man take the large case out to his car. Connor stepped around Hank, looking a few times before going toward the staircase.   
  
“See if he is coming back up, or leaving. If he comes back, call me and I’ll bail out.” Connor said, carefully climbing the cement stairs. 

 

Hank sighed loudly, shaking his head. He knew trying to stop Connor wouldn’t accomplish anything, so he pulled out his phone, ready to call Connor if anything happened. He also realized Connor didn’t carry a pistol; worry set in his gut like a stone.

 

Connor touched as little as possible, observing the organized chaos around him. Plastic packets lined minimal metal shelves, filled with a vibrant blue liquid. There were physical notebooks with dates, amounts, and prices. Connor carefully took pictures of all of it, and continued searching for codenames or locations. His phone began vibrating, Hank was calling. He swiped the green circle on his phone’s screen, “Connor! He’s coming back!”   
  
“Hank, hide until he comes upstairs, I’ll meet you out at the car. I’ll call if things go wrong.” Connor said, hanging up before Hank could protest and hid in a closet of cleaning supplies. 

 

The figure returned; he walked with a slight limp. Connor could tell the man wasn’t muscular, but definitely hefty. He pulled out a digital recorder with long range receptor, waiting to catch anything useful.

 

The man’s phone rung; Connor had hit the jackpot. “This is Todd…. Yes, I’m on my way now.... No… No, hey man, we agreed on a price, stick to it!! …. Yes… no, I know... I’ll tell the boss that her patrons are happy with the new batch…. See you in two hours.” 

 

Connor was  _ shaking _ . This was more information on Blue Blood than anything the DPD had gotten after two years of searching. He watching Todd walk out of sight from the table, texting Hank that he had gotten some solid new evidence, and hopefully a lead.

  
Todd’s footsteps echoed through the room, stopped, and approached the closet Connor was in. In a panic, he tried his best to get in a blind spot behind where the door would swing open. He pressed himself tightly against the wall in anticipation, but thankfully the suspect didn’t come in. As Todd started to collect a few more things, Connor faced a decision: tell Hank to follow the car when the suspect left, or to give away his location and attempt to arrest the man. Without a weapon, it would be futile. Unless… he quickly looked around the closet, and found a simple pistol, but it had no ammo. Better than nothing. He texted Hank to come and back him up, before stepping out of the closet.   
  
“Freeze! Detroit Police, put your hands in the air!” He called out, startling Todd. The man’s face looked grey-ish and unhealthy, probably from drug use. Todd lifted his hands, but kept his position near one of the tables. 

 

“How the  _ fuck _ did you get in here?” He asked.

 

Connor kept the gun pointed at him, “I suggest keeping quiet until in the presence of a lawyer.” He stepped closer, carefully. Hands behind your head, I’ll be cuffing you and taking you in.”   
  
Todd turned around, fairly agreeably, when Connor approached. He could hear Hank coming into the building, and got the cuffs ready. When he got the first hand into the cuffs, Todd kicked backwards and hit Connor’s shin. 

 

All right, Connor would have to do this the hard way. 

 

Each took turns throwing punches and dodging. Hank reached the door, but it was locked. “Connor? Connor! What’s going on?” 

 

It caught the detective a little off guard, and Todd landed a solid punch to his gut before taking off. Connor recoiled, but shook it off to give chase. “Lieutenant, I’m in pursuit!” He dashed down the hallway, dodging a knocked over shelf and following Todd through the old warehouse. 

 

They ran through a set of double doors to a new room, Todd stopping and turning down one of the rows of shelves. Connor continued straight, looking for him, but he must’ve turned back somewhere. “Shit!”   
  
As Connor turned around, two things happened: a door to his left opened, revealing a very angry Hank, and Todd was in clear view of both of them. In a split second, Connor saw Todd’s gun trained on his partner, and jumped into the line of fire.

 

The gun’s blast rang through his ears, a blooming pain in his left shoulder. He didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice screaming in pain. Hank stepped to the side and fired at Todd’s leg, but the man kept running so he must’ve missed.   
  
“Damnit... “ Hank cursed, turning his attention to Connor. “CONNOR!” He ran to his partner’s side, “No… NO!”

 

The young man dropped to his knees, clutching his shoulder; still crying out in pain. The bullet was imbedded just above his clavicle, he was shaking at the thought as he felt blood start to escape the entry hole. 

 

“Never do that again! You wait for backup, backup doesn’t wait for you! Goddamnit, Connor…” Hank wasn’t nearly as angry as he was scared to death. Connor had his whole life ahead of his, it wasn’t worth risking it for Hank’s.   
  
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” Connor uttered breathlessly through his own panting. “Hank, please….” The lieutenant caught him as he his body relaxed and dropped like a bag of flour. His head started to fill with noise; his vision cutting out and flashes of light it its place. 

 

Connor let out a pathetically small whimper as he collapsed, Hank barely prevented him from hitting his head on the hard floor. He called 9-11 on speakerphone for an ambulance, giving calm reassurances to Connor while speaking with the dispatcher. He pressed his hand against the wound, causing Connor to arch his back and cry out. “I’m not losing you, goddamnit! Kid, stay with me!”

 

Hank was a mess by the time paramedics arrived. He climbed into the ambulance with them, answering questions about what happened. He was also sure to get Connor’s phone and recorder before he was brought into surgery. It was going to be a couple of hours before Connor would wake up from anesthesia, so he took a cab to get his car, stopped at home to see Sumo, and then returned to check on his partner.

 

Hank  _ hated _ hospitals. Made him think about his son too much. He thought about calling one of Connor’s family members to let them know that Connor was okay… but… it didn’t feel right to do so without asking Connor first. 

 

He grabbed two burgers from the diner next door, and managed to sneak them into Connor’s room as he waited for the kid to wake up. 

 

When a nurse came in to do a check, he asked when they anticipated Connor to wake up. “Normally it would be any minute now… however, we don’t think he has been taking the medication he is prescribed to on his health record, so the amount of anesthesia administered may make him sleep longer.” She explained, writing all of the vitals down on a form. “Once he wakes up, he should be good to go home within an hour, if he isn’t still in too much pain.”

 

Hank nodded, watching her closely until she left the room. As long as he was stuck here, he might as well see if the kid managed to get anything good. He played the only file on the digital recorder, impressed. Even if he did something stupid, there was no denying how important this phone call was to the case. “So… the supplier’s a woman. That’s interesting.” He mumbled. He flipped through the pictures in Connor’s phone, impressed. This Todd guy was gonna need a good lawyer.

 

He looked down at his partner again. The eyelids were started to twitch, which hopefully meant the kid was waking up. He pulled out the two burgers, setting them on the bedside table, and waited for Sleeping Beauty to awaken

 

Connor didn’t do so peacefully; much to Hank’s surprise. He sprang up, breathing heavily, but melted back into the bed in pain from agitating his shoulder. When Connor finally looked over to see Hank, there was a wave of relief that washed over him.   
  
“Thank god… you’re okay…” he said, smiling.

 

Hank pulled his lips into a sideways frown; “Yeah, you did good. You’re a reckless idiot, but you saved my ass, and probably saved this investigation months of searching with what you got on this thing.” He waved the digital recorder, setting it down to replace one of the burgers. He held the paper-wrapped sandwich out to his partner. “You must be starving.”

 

He helped Connor sit back up, and they ate their greasy burgers together, finishing them before the nurse came back.

 

After some general patient paperwork, medical forms and contracts, Connor was finally discharged and allowed to leave. Hank helped him into the car in the dark, dreary parking lot, where they sat quietly for a moment. “So, I’m gonna drop you off at your place, and I’ll check on you tomorrow. Fowler is giving you a week of leave.”

 

“What?!” Connor reacted. “No, I can go in tomorrow, I just need to-”

 

“Abso - fucking - lutely not! Get some goddamn rest, kid!” Hank started up the car, starting to pull out. “Now what’s your address? Or do I have to bring you to friend’s house so they can keep track of you?”

 

Connor stayed silent for a moment, staring out the window. Hank looked over to see the worn-out eyes become mesmerized by the quickly passing lights. He grumbled, “Address, c’mon, Connor…”

 

“60 South Street, just off of Main Avenue Extension,” he revealed.    
  
Hank nodded; he sorta knew that area. They turned not too far from the Citgo he dropped Connor off at before, to the apartment complex just beyond. Hank always thought this place looked kinda sketchy… did Connor really live here?

 

He parked outside of the building, getting out to help Connor out of the low-riding car. “Thank you, Lieutenant. You should head home.” He said, pulling his keys from his pocket, whincing a little from the soreness of his shoulder.   
  
“Ohhh, no. I’m walking you up. You aren’t falling down any stairs on my watch.” Hank insisted, gruffly.

 

Connor didn’t feel like arguing, but he knew Hank wouldn’t be thrilled with what came next.

 

They climbed the four flights of stairs to Connor’s studio. He went through three locks to get the door to open, flipping on the lights as he let Hank in. 

 

It was a fairly poor excuse of an apartment. Some of the floorboards had water damage and rotted through in a few spots, the appliances must have been decades old. Instead of a bed was merely a long, worn-out floral couch. In the corner there was a small dresser, and wardrobe near a messy desk. There wasn’t much floor space beyond that.    
  
“Want a beer?” Connor offered, opening the fridge, trying to pretend everything was fine.

 

Hank looked around, speechless for a few minutes. “Connor… why don’t you spend the night at my place?”    
  
“Hank, please don’t-” 

 

“I mean, FUCK, kid!! Is Jeff not paying you enough or something?” Hank yelled a little louder than he meant too, which frightened Connor.   
  
“No! That's not it.” Hank waited for an explanation, which Connor begrudgingly gave. “It’s just… my  mom… she doesn’t have any money to her name anymore.” He managed to say out loud before tears starting filling his bottom eyelids. “She has to live in a home, and it’s… so that’s where most of my pay goes.” 

 

Hank’s face softened, “Connor…  look, I didn’t…” Hank felt bad for snapping. He assumed Connor had bad credit or that his drinking problem ran him dry.

 

“It’s why I don’t take my medication. Alcohol’s cheaper than co-pays.” Connor said bitterly, taking one of the beers he set on the counter and prying the cap off.

 

“Connor, that doctor said no alcohol for a few hours.” Hank didn’t say this like he was nagging, more of a “in case you forgot.” 

 

Connor gulped down another quarter of the bottle. “You should go home, Hank.”

 

Hank groaned, “You think I like seeing you like this? It’s fucking pathetic. I’m offering you help, and you aren’t really in a position to say no. So stop it with the self-sacrificing bullshit, and let's go.” 

 

Connor downed the rest of his beer, tossing the bottle into a recycling bin. “I need to grab a few things.” 

 

He packed a large backpack with some clothes, a toothbrush, and his laptop. He took a long, hot shower upon arriving at Hank’s. It felt good on such a chilly night, and made the aching in his shoulder settle down a little.

 

As he entered the living room, Hank was sitting at the table having a drink. Connor had changed from his bloodied and tattered uniform to his Michigan State hoodie and sweatpants. He left the hood up; it felt cozy while his hair finished drying. 

 

“Hank… can I ask you something?” He said as Hank poured each of them a shot.

 

“Depends on what,” the lieutenant replied neutrally. 

 

“I know I fucked up today… but… I… I want to know if you actually like having me as a partner? If you tell Fowler I didn’t follow your orders, I’m sure to be fired.” He looked at Hank helplessly. “I don’t want you to lie, but, I just hope I got enough evidence to stay on this case so that it was worth the trouble.” Stuffing his hands in the hoodie’s pocket, he continued, “I enjoy being your partner, if it means anything.”

 

“Ya know what I hate about you Connor?” Hank said, staring at this glass. The color drained from Connor’s face waiting for the end of that thought to leave Hank’s mouth. “I see too much of myself in you.” 

 

Connor let out a small, breathy laugh in relief. “Is that so?”

 

Hank raised his glass for them to toast, taking in a deep breath. “I’m ‘fraid so. Tragic history, drowning in booze. All you’re missing is a hundred pounds on your body and a dog,” They both laughed for a moment.

 

“Things can’t be all bad if I turn out like you, though. Youngest lieutenant in the history of the DPD, disassembled a major drug ring, and still deep in it.” Connor said, tasting the whiskey a little to test how it made him feel. He didn’t take a sip, but didn’t push the glass away. He was feeling a little light-headed, and wanted to wait a bit before having any more alcohol.   
  
“And, at least you aren’t married! Trust me, you can wait on that…” Hank chuckled darkly.

 

“I’ve never even come close.” Connor said, rubbing his head. 

 

“What, just a few short flings?” This was Hank’s first guess; after all, Connor was young and by all means  _ attractive _ , he was certainly a catch.

 

Connor’s cheeks became red and splotchy in embarrassment. “I’ve never… rather, no one has ever…” He released a shaky breath. “I’m a virgin.”

 

Hank shook his head, “Nahhhh, you’re fucking with me now…” he asked through another sip of whiskey. Connor shrugged with a nervous smile. “You’re serious?”   
  
“I think I would know, and no reason to lie about it, really…” he admitted. The hard thumping in his chest was unrelenting, sending pulsing pain to his head, but he bit it back as much as he could. 

 

Hank let out a  _ humph _ , as if disapproving of this newly surfaced fact. He had finished his glass of whiskey, reaching to pour himself more when he saw Connor had barely touched his. “There a problem with your drink, Con?” he asked.   
  
Connor’s eyes had been closing slowly, but he snapped back to attention at Hank’s question. “Sorry… no, I’m just… I’m not feeling well, I’m cutting myself off.” He said, now starting to shiver a little.  _ This is not a great time for a panic attack… _ he thought loudly in his head.

 

Hank shrugged, taking Connor’s glass and swallowing the shot in one gulp. “Well, guess we should hit the hay, then.” He put the glasses in the sink, and a thought struck him as he took the whiskey bottle and placed it on a shelf of other booze. “You should take my bed tonight.”

 

Connor looked up, flustered. “No, that’s… that won’t be necessary, Hank. This is your house, the couch is fine.” 

 

Well, he can’t say he didn’t try. “All right, but… wake me if you have any problems, alright?” He stepped into his bedroom, watching Connor slowly walk toward the couch. “Connor?”   
  
His partner nodded, “Sure, Hank. Good night,” he said weakly as he carefully laid himself on the couch.


	3. Digging Deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor can't sleep, and the Blue Blood investigation continues at Todd's house.

 

Despite the exhaustion, Connor couldn’t seem to fall asleep for more than a few moments. He kept slipping unconscious, dreams feeling like bad hallucinations, and then the feeling of falling waking him up. He pressed a closed fist to his head; the pouding was killing him. 

 

Quiet as he could, he got up to go to the bathroom, locating a bottle of ibuprofen and taking three tablets down with water. Anything to get this damn headache to go away. He returned to the couch, sitting upright with his head leaned back. He was dizzy and nauseous, his shoulder ached like hell, and he couldn’t get his breathing quite under control. “Fuck…” he hissed through his teeth, bouncing his right leg to try and shake off the nervous energy. His chest was tightening, breathing was getting harder. 

 

He didn’t know what to do. Ride it out? Leave? Wait until morning?

 

He couldn’t take Hank up on his offer of waking him. Connor didn’t even know what he needed, what would he even say to Hank? 

 

The pressure was building up inside of him, making him hyper-aware of the deathly silence that so contrasted with his apartment’s usual white noise of his loud neighbors

 

Something snapped inside of him; he covered his eyes as he felt the cascading pressure settle around him in a disorienting fog. Sharp breaths, in and out, the pounding in his head finally breaking him down and he cried out in pain before grabbing a pillow to muffle his moans of pain. Even in full panic mode, he knew well enough that he would rather just tell Hank than be found in a pitiful pile on the couch in the morning.

 

As he got up, he felt his blood pressure drop, but that wouldn’t stop him now. He managed to get to the door; hearing Hank’s enormous dog jump off the bed, and paw at the door. Connor’s vision blurred before he could turn the knob properly, and he fell against the wall beside the door.

  
  


\--

 

Hank woke groggily to the sound of Sumo barking at the bedroom door. It wasn’t like Sumo to want to go out for a walk at this hour, what was going on? He felt something thud to the floor just outside his door; he was a little more awake now.   
  
“Connor, that you?” He called out, grunting as he rolled out of bed. He opened the door for Sumo, who was now whining loudly, and the dog made a sharp turn to the left of the bedroom door. 

 

The kid was sitting up against the wall, pale as a ghost, with Sumo right in his face. Connor didn’t have the strength to push the large dog away. “C’mon Sumo, let him breathe.” Hank tugged the dog away, and kneeled down to get a good look himself, feeling Connor’s forehead.

 

He was warm, but with a cold sweat across his face. His breathing was wheezy and irregular, his hands shaking as he reached out for something. Anything.

 

Hank knew a panic attack when he saw one, and this one was  _ bad _ . He lifted Connor through the doorframe and onto the bed, holding his hands tightly. “Focus on my voice, Connor. You’re not alone, look at me, kid.”

 

Connor opened his bloodshot eyes, whimpering at the slightest touch. “Hank… hurts… hurts everywhere” He had Hank’s hands in a death grip, rubbing the rough skin in search of comfort. “Please… please don’t leave me alone…”

 

“I’m right here, Connor. Not going anywhere.” 

 

Connor pulled himself up by Hank’s shirt and pressed himself into Hank’s chest. He needed to feel grounded, safe… protected. Hank wasn’t going to object; the kid had shown his sweeter side and Hank felt okay showing his, too. Holding the trembling young man, Hank decided he wouldn’t be hard on Connor anymore. He couldn't. He needed to believe Connor could be better; start sleeping well, drinking less, caring about his own life instead of the lives of others so much.

 

Even if Hank couldn’t keep is shit together, maybe Connor still could.

 

Connor fell asleep against Hank, which was only made clear because his grip became relaxed suddenly. Hank helped him settle comfortably on the bed, made sure there was a glass of water beside him, but heard Connor’s voice choke out a small plea when he was about to leave.

 

“Hank… please stay with me?” He asked, almost dreamily. 

 

As long as permission was granted, Hank didn’t feel guilty about sliding onto the bed beside his partner. Connor slipped back into a deep sleep that his body so desperately needed.

 

Connor, in fact, slept in until nearly two in the afternoon. Hank told Fowler he’d be working from home, and spent the morning quietly tidying up a little, checking on Connor, and walking Sumo. After some lunch, while typing up observations of the pictures his partner took, Hank saw Connor emerge from the bedroom.    
  
“What some lunch? There’s some ham and cheese in the fridge if you want a sandwich.” Hank offered.

 

Connor merely nodded, clearly not used to being unconscious for so many hours. He prepared a simple sandwich, sitting the plate down in front of the chair he had been using while at Hank’s. 

 

“Hank… about last night… thank you.” He said, biting into the soft bread, his eyes locked on Hank.   
  
“Yeah. Look… I don’t think you’re a bad kid, Connor. I didn’t mean to be so hard on you before, ya know?” Hank said, getting up to get some coffee. “You're a good detective. A little crazy, but we need some of that,” with mug in tow he sat back down. 

 

He looked over at Connor’s face; it was a wonder what a little sleep could do. The dark circles under his eyes had faded significantly, and his smile was practically sunshine compared to his usual resting-bitch-face. 

 

“Make you a deal. I won't tell Fowler about your poor judgement, but the only time you drink is when you're with me.” Hank let the offer settle for a few minutes, seeing the conflict on Connor’s face. 

 

“Sure.” He eventually said. “It’s a deal.”

 

\---

 

Hank let Connor stay at his house the next couple of days, since he was at the station all day anyway. Connor cleaned and made dinner, even though Hank told him it wasn't necessary. 

 

But the third day, Connor insisted he was well enough to return to work. There was a long meeting with the Captain. Connor admitted the truth, much to Hank’s surprise, but Fowler took it easy on him after seeing all the information they had gathered. 

 

 

 

 

Todd, full name Todd Williams, was arrested outside the warehouse the day after they were there. They got his home address and a warrant; Fowler instructed Hank and Connor to go to his house to find any more evidence for the case. 

 

They pulled up to the aged, wood-paneled house. A simple two-story. The report said that Todd was married, so they knocked on the door before entering.

 

The door was answered by a fairly young woman. “Hello…” she said nervously. 

 

“Are you Mrs. Williams?” Connor asked. 

 

The woman shook her head, “No… no, my name is Kara. I'm the babysitter.”

 

“Kara? Who’s that?” a small voice came from the top of the stairs. Hank waved to the little girl, smiling, but received a hesitant wave back before disappearing. 

 

“When will Mrs. Williams be home?” Hank asked.

 

Kara’s face dropped, nervously. She turned to look upstairs, “Umm… I dont know if I can…” She sighed, resigning to her own conscience. “Would you like some coffee?”

 

The two officers patiently sat in the living room. Kara had checked on the young girl, Alice, and brought in some cookies with two mugs of coffee.

 

“Todd’s wife… left. Months ago. They never filed a divorce because of the money. I live down the street, I'm getting my bachelors online, and Todd had asked to watch Alice for a few days while he went away. It didn’t seem so unusual, except he sounded angrier than he normally does.” She watched as the two officers exchange glances. “What? What's wrong?”

 

“Miss… Todd Williams has been arrested in association with drug trafficking. He likely called you from the police station.” Hank said delicately. 

 

Kara covered her mouth in shock, “he told me he’s a trucker… he goes away for days on end all the time…”

 

Connor spoke up, “Would it be all right if we went upstairs to check his room?” They had a warrant; they didn't need to ask, but he didn't want to impose with a clearly scared child in the house.

 

Kara nodded leading the way. All three of them tried not to make too much noise, and thankfully the suspect’s room was at the very top of the stairs. “I’ll be down the hall with Alice, let me know if you need anything, officers.” She said, stepping away with a small smile.   
  
They combed through the drawers. Some drug paraphernalia, old porn magazines and trash strewn about… one thing was certain: this guy was a fucking pig. Connor was digging through some of the shelves, when he saw a medicine bottle on an end table. He observed the prescription, and gently tugged the drawer underneath open.    
  
“Hank, do we know if he has a firearm registered in his name?” He asked, taking a picture of the weapon.

 

The lieutenant shook his head, “Not that I know of… we’ll have the guys at the station check,” he searched through the dresser drawers and closet. Nothing terribly suspicious… he combed through the shirts and jackets, noticing a lump in one the suits all the way in the back. He reached in, revealing an old phone.

 

“Connor, I found something.” He said, trying to boot it up. Connor stood beside him as the phone’s screen came to life. It looked like it had never been used. “The fuck…?” Hank commented idly, opening the contacts.

 

One contact. One name.   
  
Kamski. 

 

Connor opened up his own phone, typing in the name. “Kamski… that sounds familiar somehow… he scrolled through a few internet search results, including images. “Doctor Chloe Kamski?”

 

Hank raised his eyebrows, “Shit…  scientist, right?” 

 

Connor nodded, breathlessly. “Her and her assist Elijah were doing extensive medical research on synthetically produced neural synapses.” Connor pulled out an evidence bag, “Perhaps Blue Blood is part of her experimentation…” He slid the phone in the bag as he trailed behind Hank down the hallway. Hank gently knocked on the last door, waiting for a response. 

 

Kara appeared after quiet word with Alice, “Yes?”

 

“We seem to be all set here, I think we found what we needed.” He handed her a business card with the station’s phone number and his email. “If there’s anything you need, or anything you think would help us, you are more than welcome to call. Even anonymously.”

 

Kara looked between the two of them, hesitantly. “Yes, of course. Ummm… thank you.”

 

They escorted themselves outside, raindrops started to drop down. “Ughh… poor kid.” Hank said, unlocking the car doors and climbed inside. Connor strayed behind a little, sliding something into the mail slot before carefully closing the door. “What was that?”    
  
Connor looked up innocently, “Nothing, just…” Hank eyed him suspiciously. “Just some money to help them get by. I know it’s none of our business but…” he buckled his seat belt, looking back at the house, and noticed they were being watched from an upstairs window. “That little girl doesn’t have any idea what’s going on. I just… I’m just looking out for them.”

 

\----

 

Kara sat on Alice’s bed while the girl peered out the window, watching the old station-wagon pull away. She held her stuffed fox tightly, “Daddy’s in trouble, isn’t he?”

 

Her babysitter held her breath; there was no use in lying. “He… he is, Alice. Those two officers just want to help, they need to find out why he made a few mistakes.” She looked down at the little girl, who was on the verge of crying. “Let’s go make some mac and cheese and watch a movie, okay?” She offered.

 

Alice nodded, jumping off the bench by the window and skipping down the hallways. Kara followed behind, smiling at the sight of the child’s calming change in attitude.

 

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she noticed an envelope near the door with her name on it. She looked out the window again, seeing if any other cars were around before opening it.   
  
There was a small note written inside, along with $80 in cash. “ _ Take care, from Detective Connor and Lieutenant Hank.” _

 

Kara smiled, tears pricking her eyes, as she joined Alice in the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry for the short-ish chapter. I wanted to put up an update but I want to have enough backlogged that edit before posting. Thanks for all the support, keep bringing on the comments!


	4. Unprepared For The Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their case has hit a stand still, but outside of work things just get worse.

 

Hank and Connor arrived back at the station, rushing inside to report their findings. Kamski hadn’t lived in Detroit in many years, they would have to find her location before getting a warrant for arrest and search of property. Hank insisted that Connor fill out an expense reimbursement form, but he already knew Connor would stubbornly decline. 

 

They also found that the gun in Todd’s room likely wasn’t registered in his name, since it was registered out of the state of Michigan. They processed the paperwork to get the information, but it was going to take a while.   
  
The week was filled with busy work; a few smaller cases came in, but their underlying focus was still on Blue Blood, despite hitting a dead end.

 

As they were working at their desks, Connor’s phone rang, and Hank noticed a look of devastating surprise when Connor saw the caller ID. 

 

“Hello, this is Connor...” He stood up, and walked toward the bathrooms to take the call. It must’ve been a personal call, since he didn’t answer with his police rank.

 

Hank kept working, glancing up every few minutes. After a little while, Connor returned, his face red and flustered, and he started to collect together a few things. “Connor, where are you going?” Hank asked.

 

“It’s… it’s my mom,” he froze, save for his shaking fingers. “I gotta go…”

 

Hank stood up too, grabbing his phone and car keys. “Need a ride?”

 

Connor was taken aback by the offer, but looked around at all the work on their desks. “No… no Hank, you don’t need to… I can just take a bus.”

 

Hank looked at him with stern friendliness, “If you need to get there quickly, I can just drive you. I don’t mind, Connor.”

 

Connor agreed, if for nothing else but he just couldn’t keep himself together. He instructed Hank the way to get to the destination, an assisted living center just outside the city. Probably would’ve taken him a couple hours by bus. 

 

They walked in, Connor immediately going to the front desk. “I’m looking for Amanda Kelly, which room is she in?” The receptionist and two nurses looked at each other cautiously.

 

“Is he coming with you?” One of them asked, pointing at Hank. 

 

“Yes, he’s a friend.” Connor said with no hesitation, which caught Hank off his guard as he did a subtle double-take.

 

One of the nurses nodded, escorting them down a long hallway. Each step felt like a millenium to Connor, he felt Hank’s hand on his shoulder briefly as they reached the last room on the right.

 

“Mr. Kelly… she is not doing well. There may not be much time left for her. We also called your brother, he said he would be here shortly.” The nurse said solemnly. “Let us know if you need anything.”

 

Connor pushed the windowed door open, Hank close behind. The young officer immediately took the chair by the woman’s bed. To Hank, she didn’t seem that much older than him, but she looked like she was in terrible shape. The elderly African-American woman wore her hair in intricately done braids, strands of white and silver blending through. Her eyes looked distant, like she couldn’t focus on anything.   
  
“Oh… hello young man, are you one of my doctors?” She asked, her speech fairly lucid despite her appearance. Almost like it had been rehearsed, or at least spoken many times before.   
  
Connor shook his head, taking her hand. “No… I’m your son. You adopted my brother and I… the nurses asked me come pay you a visit, it's been a while.”

 

She looked at him, lost and confused. “No… I don’t have any kids. Who  _ are  _ you? What are you doing here?” Her voice became weaker, and afraid.

 

Connor held back tears, “Amanda… I know you don’t remember me, but you raised me since I was five. Your home smelled like sage on Saturday mornings, and you like your tea cold with a lemon wedge.” 

 

Hank stayed in place, not wanting to interrupt as Connor continued trying to convince her who he was. After a few minutes, he stepped outside the door, scratching the back of his head.

 

A little while later, the same nurse was coming down the hallway with someone who looked vaguely like Connor. Same hair, but different eyes; he was taller, stockier. He glared at Hank as he entered Amanda’s room. The nurse watched him go in, and turned to Hank. “Those two visit pretty regularly, Connor more so, but I have never seen them here at the same time.” She said, almost like it was a warning. 

 

Hank followed her back to the waiting area, grabbing some water, and reading some old magazine on cars. Just something to pass the time. He messaged Fowler that Connor left for a family emergency. Apparently, Fowler didn’t seem to mind Hank taking so much personal responsibility of looking after his partner.    
  
Hank didn’t mind either, Connor was more than his work partner to him.

 

The two brothers emerged from the room; Connor looked like a wreck. The taller one flagged down a nurse, and went back inside. Hank set down the periodical, nearly sprinted down the hallway.

 

Connor’s forlorn face was all he needed to see to know what had happened. He pulled him in carefully, holding him closely. “I’m so sorry, Connor…” he said softly.

 

When the other brother came back out, he walked toward where the two were standing in the hallway with large strides. Connor broke away, turning to face his brother.   
  
“Well… seems I’ll be seeing you again on Saturday, huh Connor?” the larger one said, coldly. 

 

Connor only nodded, “Yeah… St. Peter’s, right?” 

 

The larger one nodded, then turned to face Hank. “I’m Craig, Connor’s younger brother,” and extended his hand.

 

Connor looked on nervously as Hank took his hand. “Lieutenant Hank Anderson. I’m Connor’s partner with the police department.”

 

Craig smirked, rubbing his brother’s hair. “Keeping an eye on my idiot brother, huh?” He checked his phone for the time before adjusting his jacket. “Well, I need to get back to work… I hope Connor brings you for the service on Saturday.” He slapped Connor’s shoulder, just missing his still-healing wound, making Connor grunt softly. “See ya…”

 

Connor rubbed his shoulder, watching his brother walk off, noticing that Hank was steaming mad. “What a fuckin’ jackass Connor… you sure he’s your brother?” 

 

The joke made Connor smile a little, before turning and glancing back at the room where his mother had been. 

 

“Let’s go…” 

 

It was still fairly early in their work day, they probably should’ve returned to the station, but Hank was having none of that. Connor rode in the car silently, since Hank seemed to know exactly where they needed to go. He pulled up to a park near a large bridge; a small, abandoned playground between them and the walkway along the water. They got out, Hank leading the way to a bench with a perfect view of the bridge. He sat down, while Connor walked toward the railing on the opposite side of the pavement.

 

“I used to come here a lot… before…” Hank started, looking away distantly.

 

“Before what?” Connor asked, turning to his partner.

 

“Before… before I lost my son,” Hank muttered, hands folded between his knees. He was hunched over, staring down a his feet. Connor approached him slowly, sitting next to him on the bench. “It never gets easier to grieve… you just stop thinking about it as often.” Connor listened silently, but intently with his eyes fixed on his partner. “What am I to you, Connor? Hm? And who are you to me?”

 

Connor was taken aback, color flushing his cheeks. “Uhh…” He felt a lump in his throat, trying hard to find the right words. “I’m… I’m whatever you want me to be, Hank. Whatever you… need me to be.” He said, leaning over onto Hank’s shoulder.

 

On their way home to Hank’s house, they stopped at a liquor store for a bottle of bourbon and a large pizza to take with them. Connor picked out the liquor brand his mother had liked years ago, and they wasted no time sitting at the dining room table to start drinking when they got back.   
  
“How about ‘Truth or Dare’, Hank?” He asked, unscrewing the top.   
  
“Fine, but you go first…” Hank replied, feeding Sumo and grabbing each of them a slice of pizza. “So… truth.”

 

Connor took a sip from his glass, “The longest I’ve been sober since turning 21 was my last week at the police academy. Didn’t have a single drop the whole week because I was so broke.” He took a bite of his pizza, waiting for Hank to pour his glass. “Truth.”

 

Hank raised his eyebrows, looking at the amber liquid before him. “Longest I was sober since turning 21 was the year I got married.”    
  
Connor let the pause linger in the air, making a slow realization. “The whole year?!”

 

Hank snorted as he laughed, “Hehe, yeah… my fiancee gave it up, so I did it with her.” Connor let out a  _ humph _ , he was impressed. “Hmmm… truth.”

 

“The girl I took to my high school prom married my brother,” he said, resting his head in his palm.

 

His partner shook his head side-to-side, “I bet the wedding was fun.”

 

“Ohhh, it was better when she found out I was gay, I assure you.” Connor smiled unevenly, letting his nose crinkle up a little. “Dare?” Hank motioned his hand to bring it on. “I dare you to sprinkle hot sauce on that slice of pizza you’re eating.” 

 

Hank got up to go to the fridge, sarcastically making a face a tragedy. “Geez, Connor, I’m really living on the edge here.” He rolled his eyes, but did what he was dared to. “All right… I dare you to dip your pizza into your glass of bourbon.” With a straight face, Connor did so, taking a large bite. Squinting his eyes at Hank while he did. “All right, kid, hit me.”   
  
Connor put his slice of pizza down, and took his shot. “I dare you to kiss me, Hank.”

 

Hank coughed loudly, almost too dramatically if he wasn’t so literally goddamned surprised. Well… if he was gonna do this, an Anderson doesnt half-ass anything. He motioned for Connor to come toward him, standing up. Connor followed, mouth opened but slack. 

 

Hank pretty much towered above him, so Connor hoisted himself up on the balls of his feet. Their faces drew in close, Connor shuddered at the sensation of Hank touching his cheek, and closed his eyes. He was a little disappointed when all Hank did was kiss his cheek, feeling the teasing of the bristles in his beard. But it was enough to make his young blood run hot. 

 

When he opened his eyes, he saw Hank still hovering above him. “Connor... I dare you to kiss me back.” 

 

Connor reached up and pulled Hank down toward him by his jaws, hungrily locking lips with the lieutenant. 

 

Hank wasn't surprised that Connor kissed like a teenager, he was so excited and needy. He stubbornly moved his lips slowly, coercing the young man to slow down. Connor took a little while to get the signal, but even in slowing down his lips, his breaths were still rushed. His hands trailed down from Hank’s face, down his neck and against the large chest. 

 

He finally broke away, grounding his feet back flat on the floor. When his eyes opened, he was thankful to see Hank smiling, and grinned back. Connor was about to lean on again, when he was stopped abruptly. 

 

“Easy there… give me a minute, all right?” He said, sitting back down in awe. 

 

Connor stood there awkwardly, before he sat back down as well.

 

“So….” Hank said, not really finding the correct words for the thousand and one things bouncing through his head.

 

Connor was still deeply blushing, unable to subdue the stupid grin on his face. Hank… not so much.   
  
“That… didn’t happen.” Hank finally said, sternly.

 

Connor let out a nervous laugh, “Huh?”   
  
Hank stood up, taking his glass with him. “That didn’t just happen. It can’t happen again.” He said.

 

The words hit Connor like a brick wall, “But… but you…”

 

“I don’t know what you were thinking, and I don’t know why I reacted like that… but we are going to pretend that didn’t happen. Got it?” Hank downed what was left of his cup, “I’m going to bed.”

 

“You… didn’t like it….?” Connor asked blankly, receiving little reaction from Hank. “I did…. I… I really _like_ _you_ , Hank.” He said, standing and blocking Hank’s path to the bedroom. In a moment of desperation, he blurted out “I love you…”

 

Hank turned away, avoiding eye contact at all costs as he pushed past Connor. “You don’t know what love is, kid…” Continuing toward his bedroom apathetically. 

 

Fuming, Connor grabbed his backpack and started to collect the few things he had with him. “I’m going home. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

 

“Fine,” Hank said, “Fine with me.”

 

Connor left behind the bottle of alcohol, storming out madly and slamming the front door. He walked home, cold and bitter as hot tears stung his face. 

 

The house was silent for a few minutes. Hank breathed heavily, returning to the table with a revolver and his glass. 


	5. Roulette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor still goes to work, and still cares about Hank, despite what happened the night before. 
> 
>  
> 
> (This is an adaption of the Russian Roulette chapter of the game, so extra cw for attempted suicide)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** I uploaded a two chapters a few hours apart. Please make sure you have read the previous chapter before this one!

Connor didn’t sleep all night. On his way home, he realized he forgot the alcohol at Hanks, but didn’t feel inclined to stop at the store as a sobbing mess. He crashed into his familiar couch broken-hearted; bitter and angry with himself more than Hank. He should’ve kept his mouth shut…. He shouldn’t have dared Hank to kiss him. But then… why did Hank ask for a kiss back?

 

This was as good a time as any to distract himself with work, so he poured himself into the Blue Blood case, and started doing some digging on their main suspects. He spent hours staring at his laptop screen until it was time to go into work.    
  


He sent Fowler an email in regards to the death in his family, explaining that he would use his grievance leave when the case was over. Since he was off the day of the church service anyway, so he might as well save them for a better time. Anything to get this damn investigation over with; it was driving Connor crazy.

 

Upon arriving at the precinct, Fowler immediately called the detective into his office. Connor was concerned; if it was about the case, he would rather have Hank with him, despite the events of the previous night.   
  
“Have a seat, detective.” Fowler motioned toward the chair in front of his desk, handing Connor a bottle of water. “I’m very sorry to hear about your mother, and I respect that you wish to put off your personal time for the case. However… I need to know that you aren’t going to be overwhelmed emotionally while we try to see this through to an end,” the captain explained, gently. “You and Hank have made a lot of progress, and we have an opportunity to send someone undercover, but I can’t do that until I’ve had a briefing with your partner.” 

 

Connor nodded, his eagerness overshadowed by the anxieties filling his thoughts. “Of course, Captain. I will let you or Lieutenant Anderson know if I change my mind. But… I am determined that we can solve this soon, before any more lives are lost.”

 

Jeffery nodded, “That’s all I needed to hear. Speaking of which, how’s it going with you and Hank? It’s nice to see him getting his head out of his own ass... He’s had a rough time the last few years.”   
  
Connor scoffed a little, “We have had some… disagreements. But it has been an honor to work with the Lieutenant, as well as learn from him on a personal level.”

 

“That’s good to hear. Hank and I go way back, I know he’s got some baggage that makes him hard to put up with. Sometimes, he needs someone to smack him into shape. You’re free to go, we’ll have a meeting when Anderson gets in about going further in the investigation.”

 

Connor stood up, shaking Fowler’s hand. Before leaving, he turned to ask, “In regards to going undercover, sir. Is there anything I can prepare in advance if it is approved?”

 

Fowler nodded, “Nothing crazy, but we think we found a bar that’s being used as a pickup spot for the drug. I’ll send you the address and the details we have so far.”

 

Nodding, Connor finally left the glass-encased office for his desk. He continued to bury himself in work, not even bothering to check the time as more hours passed. A few proposals for an undercover investigation were written up in full detail, and Connor studied the street layout of the area for places to stake backup. 

 

“Hey Connor… have you seen Anderson today?” He was startled out of his work by Officer Chen, who looked at him curiously when he jumped in surprise.   
  
Connor finally looked at the clock, it was already pretty late in the afternoon, nearly time to leave. “No… I…. I lost track of time. Is everything all right, Tina?”   
  
She shrugged, “Well, the captain wants to have a meeting about going undercover; he asked me to assist the two of you. I was going to ask you guys about it before saying yes, but…” her voice tapered off as she crossed her arms. “Did Hank call out sick?”

The detective became wrought with worry in his seat, and started getting ready to leave. “I’m going to go to his home and check on him. He’s likely been sleeping all day.” He said, knowing that was all too hopeful.  _ Drinking _ all day would probably be more accurate.

 

He rushed outside just in time to catch a bus, frantically fiddling with a quarter he had in his pocket to keep his hands occupied. He was let off not too far from Hank’s, and walked briskly to the small house.

 

 

 

He tried knocking first, of course, since Hank didn’t have a doorbell. He knocked again, “Lieutenant Anderson?” Another knock, “Hank?”   
  
He could hear Sumo barking inside, and went around the side of the house to look through the windows. His breathing stopped completely upon seeing Hank laying on the linoleum kitchen floor, splayed out and surrounding by broken glass. Just beyond his right hand was a revolver, sending a shockwave of adrenaline through Connor.   
  
He tried to open the window, without much luck, then went around to the front to see if Hank had locked his front door or garage. “Shit…” he cursed, discovering that they were. 

 

He returned to the kitchen window, whispering an apology to Hank before swinging his elbow into the safety glass. He bounced off it, a large bruise forming on his arm, but inhaled deeply to try again with his teeth gritted. The second time he left a large crack, but it wasn’t enough. 

 

Third time's a charm; he got a running start and rammed himself into the small window, the pieces shattering to the kitchen’s floor. Lifting himself up, he managed to fit through the window but tumbled with very little grace. His skin was grazed with a few cuts from the glass, but he hardly noticed. Sumo immediately tried to come over, but Connor commanded him to sit on the couch so he wouldn’t get hurt on the glass, either. It was a blessing that dog was so obedient.

 

He kneeled in front of Hank, making sure he wasn’t injured or dead. Heart rate was a little high, thankfully not critical. But, he reeked of booze. Connor realized the broken glass was one of his highballs, which must have smashed when he fell out of his chair.

 

Connor first attempted waking Hank delicately, “Lieutenant?” he said quietly, lightly slapping Hank’s face. The man reacted with a turn of his head, but didn’t wake up. 

 

He was done playing nice. He reeled back, and gave Hank a firmer slap. “WAKE UP, HANK!” 

 

The drunk man was shaken into a mostly-awake state. “The fuck…?” He mumbled. Connor hoisted him off the ground, dragging him to the bathroom. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?” His slurred speech was interrupted by a belch, much to Connor’s dismay.

 

He managed to get Hank into the tub of the shower, legs dangling over the side. “Ohhhh no, no shower for me, thank you…” Connor looked down with a heartless expression as he turned the shower handle on full blast, freezing cold water spouting from the the plumbing. Hank yelled and thrashed, “TURN IT OFF!! FUCK!!” His partner didn’t immediately comply, but found it in himself to cut off the torture once he was sure Hank was awake enough.

 

“It’s almost 6pm, Hank,” he stated bitterly. 

 

Hank looked up at him, barely acknowledging how late it was. “The fuck are you doing in my house? How’d you even get in?”

 

Connor sighed, leaning against the sink. “I saw you laying on the floor with a gun near you… I smashed a window because I thought you were  _ dead _ , Hank!” He spat angrily, before softening back down. “I promise I’ll replace the window.”

 

Hank rubbed his face, exhaustedly. “Fucckkk… help me outta this thing.” Their arms gripped each other, Connor pulling him up, and immediately the larger man’s weight shifted to the side so he could puke into the toilet. 

 

Connor looked away, kinda disgusted, but also sympathetic. “I’ll get you a change of clothes, and then we need to talk.” He said, leaving Hank in the bathroom to finish what he was doing. He pulled open a drawer and got out a pair of loose workout pants and a t-shirt, as well as a pair of underwear. Placing them quietly on the bathroom counter, he left again to clean up the kitchen. 

 

Carefully sweeping aside the variety of glass shards, he mopped up the spilled bourbon with a few paper towels and looked around for something to cover the hole in the window. He searched through a few drawers, finding masking tape and a garbage bag. Well, It would work well enough until he could buy Hank a new window. 

 

He finally leaned down to pick up the gun. The lone bullet in the firearm would’ve killed Hank if he had pulled the trigger. The burning anger returned, and put the gun down on the table, before getting each of them a glass of water for their talk. Hank finally joined him at the table, guilt clearly plastered across his face. Connor sat, arms crossed, waiting for an explanation.

 

“Not the first time I’ve played Russian Roulette… I just keep losing. Probably why I don’t play the lotto…” He said, knowing Connor wouldn’t find it funny, but no harm in trying.

 

“Looks like you wanted to do more than forget about what happened last night.” Connor said, looking away. He couldn’t stand to see Hank’s face right now; the tension hung heavily in the room.

 

“Is Fowler pissed?” Hank asked.   
  
“Not nearly as much as he would be if I told him the truth.” Connor kept his eyes away, not even wanting to see Hank’s reaction. “You got food poisoning; you were up puking all night, and passed out before you could call the office. You slept it off, you’re sorry you didn’t call.” He finally looked over at Hank, “Does that story work for you, or should I tell him you need to seek a counselor for suicidal thoughts?” 

 

The lieutenant’s mouth hung open, his shame pouring out of him in the form of tears. “I’m sorry, Connor…”

 

“Sorry?” Connor looked over at him incredulously. “You’re…  _ sorry _ ?!” Connor stood up, his adrenaline still making him run on overdrive. “I lost the woman who raised me yesterday, confessed my love to the only goddamn person who has given a shit about me in years, spent the entire day working on  _ our _ case alone... Only to find that you spent the day home, drunk, with a  **_gun to your own head._ ** ” His body was shaking as the cracked words spilled out of him, “Do you even really care? About anyone other than yourself? Or, do you truly think so little of me? Huh?” He gripped the back of the chair with white knuckles, leaning over it. “You’re not the only one who wishes this would all just go away.” He glanced at the table, and without thinking he grabbed the gun before Hank could object. 

 

He stood with his head raised slightly to sit the revolver under his chin, closing his eyes. He felt like he was shutting down; his body ached, he wasn’t in control of his breathing. He didn’t want to feel anything anymore.

 

“Connor… put the gun down…” A frightened voice said to him, Sumo barking in the background. He stayed steadfast, but the adrenaline began to trickle away and fear taking over. “Connor, PLEASE, give me the gun…. C’mon kid, take a deep breath.”

 

The gun slid from Connor’s grip, but it didn’t hit the floor. He hadn’t heard Hank get up, but suddenly there was a presence in front of him, and he heard metal against wood as the gun was placed on the kitchen table.

 

There was warmth; warm arms and a warm body holding him as he trembled. Apologies whispered in his ears, the sound of sobbing and moisture on his shoulder. Self-deprications, crying, begging; Hank’s smell enveloping the air around him. 

 

And then... the warmth was on Connor’s lips. He tasted the liquor and saliva, and the salty tears that leaked onto their lips. Hank pulled him in closely, “Goddamnit, Connor… I’m so fuckin’ sorry…” 

 

They sank down in unison, both tired and unsteady on their feet. They stayed on the floor for a little while; their breaths progressively becoming more even and deep. 

 

Hank wordlessly began to get up off the floor, taking Connor up with him in his arms. He swallowed, looking down at the young man who loved him. 

 

Truly loved him. It had been years since someone had said that to him, and he had to go and ruin it out of fear.

 

They moved to the couch, anything was better than the floor. Connor leaned in, lovingly touching his lips along Hank’s neck, desire boiling in his stomach. The larger man leaned back, still unsure but definitely didn't want the sensation to stop. Young hands traced his body; he didn't even know if he was breathing, it felt so surreal.

 

He was afraid to touch back. Afraid of feeling like some creepy man with such a beautiful creature beside him. It wasn't until Connor slowly climbed on his lap that he felt comfortable enough to touch back. He felt a shuddered breath close to his ear, and continued to drag his hands around to lift Connor closer. The divine sound that followed was enough to awaken something inside him. 

 

He hungrily sucked on Connor’s soft skin,  teeth grazing the surface. The body on top of him was shaking in anticipation; reminding Hank of Connor’s confession of his virginity. His partner, who had been through hell and back in a week, clutched desperately at his shirt. He needed the intimacy, badly.

 

Hank began to unbutton Connor’s work shirt, flicking up the collar and working it down his arms. Connor shrank back a little, as his heavily-padded shoulder was revealed. 

 

“Connor… when was the last time you changed these?” Hank asked gingerly, a hand on Connor’s cheek.

 

When Connor shook his head, “Not for a few days…” he was coaxed off of Hank’s legs and sunk into the couch. Hank disappeared and then returned shortly after with a white, plastic box. He opened it, pulling out some cotton pads, gauze, and medical tape. He was about to remove the old bandages when he was interrupted; “Let me remove them…  it's still pretty sore.” 

 

Hank nodded, looking on with worry as Connor picked the edge of one of the bandages and painstakingly removed it. His face cracked, mouth open and eyes strained shut until it was off. The wound was healing slowly, but thankfully wasn't infected. 

 

Hank called Sumo over, who sat at Connor’s feet with his head rested on Connor’s knee. “I have to clean it first, I'm sorry…” Hank whispered, opening a small packet to remove a medicated sanitary cloth. Connor looked down at Sumo as it was pressed upon the bullet hole. A loud gasp escaped him, curling his fingers into Sumo’s thick neck fur. Hank bunched up the cloth and set it down. “Hard part’s over.” Hank sweetly kissed the edge of the bare shoulder, far enough away from the wound, before taking the padding and medical tape to use. 

 

He worked quickly, holding the cotton pad and gauze down by their edges while he unraveled a few strips of the cloth tape. When he was finished, he let Connor rest for a moment while he tossed out the accumulated garbage and slid the first aid kit under the coffee table. Stepping around Sumo, Hank settled back into the couch on Connor’s other side. 

 

“I want to keep going…” Connor pleaded, still shivering in both pain and pleasure. 

 

Hank scratched at his beard, thinking, “I think the bed would be more comfortable for your shoulder.” It was followed by an agreeing nod, and in a matter of moments Connor found himself upon the soft blankets. Pillows were placed under his head and knees, which felt wonderful after being hunched over on a computer for an entire day. 

 

“Do you want anything to-” Hank came in with a glass of water and a bag of pretzels, but saw Connor had already drifted off and cut himself off. He left the water on the bedside table, bringing the bag back to the pantry. When he came back up, he was surprised to see Connor’s eyes opened slightly. “Sorry.. I didn’t meant to wake you.”

 

The young man laying on the bed shook his head with a faint smile. “I was wondering…” he said, letting his eyes close once more as Hank climbed onto the bed. “You dared me to kiss you back, but then wanted to pretend it never happened...” he mumbled. “But tonight… and… but why?”

 

Hank stroked Connor’s perfect brown curls, taking in a deep breath. “Well… for one thing, the guys at work can’t find out, or we won’t be partners anymore,” Hank ruffled his hair a little. “But... I just couldn’t bring myself to believe what you said. That you loved me.”   
  


Connor’s eyes blinked back open, brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t you believe it?”   
  
Hank leaned up, shrugging his shoulders. “I was pretty resigned in the fact that I’d be alone until I died. Let alone the idea of someone like you trying to prove me wrong, I… I’m just afraid of hurting you. I’m stuck in my unhealthy ways... but you’ve got years, Connor.”

 

Connor pouted, “That’s bullshit,” his face broke into a small smile when his curse made Hank chuckle.   
  
Hank smiled, kissing the top of Connor’s head, “Get some sleep, we’ll talk more in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers,
> 
> I'm starting to lose steam with writing... lack of feedback mixed with stress from work. I'm determined to see this fic through to the end, as well as wrapping up my other Detroit fanfic. So... updates will be further apart. :( 
> 
> Also, would love for anyone to come say hi to me on Tumblr!
> 
> malintatherian.tumblr.com


	6. Mo(u)rning

The following day at work felt surreal. Connor could barely keep himself from eyeing Hank from time to time. Even when Hank went into Fowler’s office to discuss the impending undercover mission, he could barely sit still. 

 

The meeting seemed like it would go on a while, given Hank’s expression and constant arguing with the captain, the detective decided this would be a good chance to distract himself. He got up to get some tea, seeing that Wilson was having his lunch. 

 

They exchanged glances, nodding to each other as Connor went toward the small display of drink mixes and tea bags. He picked an herbal tea, not needing to feel any more jittery than he already was. Cup in hand, he walked over to kettle and flipped it on.

 

“I heard about your mother…” Wilson spoke up. “I'm very sorry.”

 

“She was… not doing well for a long time,” Connor explained. “It is a comfort to know she is now at peace.” 

 

“You know… when you first started here, I thought I recognized you. Well, sort of…” Wilson said, earning a confused look. “I saw the obituary, and I didn’t realize that Craig Kelly was your brother. I used to work at the court house.”  _ Oh…  _ Connor thought. “Your brother is a ruthless defense lawyer. It's crazy what kind of shit his clients got away with.”

 

The kettle began releasing a cloud if steam, and Connor began pouring it. “He is certainly paid enough to see his clients walk free,” he commented bitterly.

 

Wilson chuckled, “Yeah, seems so. You two are so different… but I like you, Connor. Most of us do, besides Gavin. We’re your family; if you want anybody at the service tomorrow, we will be there.”

 

The thought struck Connor hard; he didn’t want his colleagues to see the pitiful mess he would be in, but, the offered support was so touching it made his sinuses sting like he would cry. He set his mug on the table, stirring the tea bag around. “Maybe a few people… it will only be a shirt service. No reception or burial.”

 

Wilson smiled, patting Connor on the back. “That's fine. I know Fowler would like to go, myself and Chen, too. We will be there… and Hank is coming?”

 

“Yes… he… he has been very generous since I don’t have a car.” Connor shied away from the other details of their relationship, but grinned a little thinking about it.

 

He thanked Wilson again, returning to his seat. Despite his strong appearance, it felt like everything was collapsing around him. He sipped his tea, trying to focus on work, before leaning over with his head in his hands. He counted slowly… focusing on breathing… before opening up the research he had been doing again.

 

When the lieutenant came back to his desk, he seemed a little worn out from his meeting with Fowler. “A sting operation, huh?” He asked, knowing Connor had already been asked about it 

 

“I know… it is one way to catch lower level dealers, but it isn’t bring us closer to the source of stooping all of this,” he said.

 

Hank tapped his fingers, changing the subject. “Jeffery also said he wants to come to the memorial tomorrow… would that be all right?” 

 

“Wilson approached me about it, as well. I'm not opposed, but…” Connor didn’t even need to finish for Hank to know what he meant. 

 

Hank wasn't good with this kind of stuff, either. Church services, grieving, loss…  he knew all too well the difficulty of letting such personal things be seen by others. 

 

They stopped at Connor’s apartment on their way to Hank’s to pick up his suit. Eating dinner silently with the TV blaring, and falling asleep with Sumo snoring in the corner.

  
  


\--

 

The morning came too quickly, to Connor. He let Hank continue snoozing on the couch, carefully unwrapping the large arms from his body so he could take a shower. He was careful with his shoulder, keeping it away from the water as to not ruin the careful work Hank put into wrapping it up.

  
He found himself staring at the mirror when Hank knocked and came in. He couldn’t remember how long he had been in there, just looking at his pitiful reflection. He was brought into the bedroom, where Hank helped him get dressed for the service. It didn’t start until just after noon, so they took their time making the drive out of the city to the small, countryside church. 

 

Along the way, Connor pointed out his old home. “Amanda moved out years ago, so it's been owned by a different family for a while.” He mused, “It still looks pretty good.”

 

They rounded a corner up a hill to the church, seeing that several cars were already parked out front. They entered the large doors, Connor recognizing his old neighbors and receiving the first round of condolences. Hank found them a spot toward the front, sitting alone reading the pamphlet that was printed that morning with the prayers and readings in Amanda’s memory. 

 

After a while, the three colleagues from the station arrived, quickly followed by Craig and his family. Hank suppressed a smile, recognizing the skinny, blonde woman who must have been the one Connor mentioned. The two brothers greeted each other awkwardly, and Connor waved to the small toddler in her mother’s arms. The church bells tolled, and an already exhausted Connor finally joined Hank in one of the pews. 

 

It was a very short mass. A few songs sung by an older, local parishioner, a few readings by the priest. Connor sat eerily still the whole time, which kinda freaked Hank out. The neutrally solemn face was beyond concerning, it wouldn’t be long before the facade crashed and burned.

 

After the service, Craig and Connor were each presented with a small urn by the priest, and the ringing bells echoed loudly as the congregation spilled out into the dirt parking lot.   
  
Craig and his family left fairly quickly, leaving Connor to say the good-byes and accept any remaining sympathies. He thanked the Captain and two officers from the precinct who came, and soon it was just Hank and Connor left. 

 

“Wanna go home? Or we could go out and get some dinner?” Hank offered, approaching Connor who stood at the edge of the hill looking out over the road.

 

Connor turned slowly, his hands trembling so much that Hank worried he would drop the small, simple pot in his hands. “Let’s get you into the car, or at least sitting down.” He opened the door to let Connor in before going around himself.

 

The passenger sank into his seat, cushioning the urn with his jacket on the floor, and leaning back. “Can we stop off at my place?” He said softly.   
  
“Of course… and then I’ll order delivery, sound all right?” Hank said. He knew it was easier to give specifics that his partner could just agree to rather than leaving it open-ended. He was utterly surprised, however, that Connor hadn’t broken down crying once the whole day. Which could only mean that when he did… it would be bad.   
  
Connor dropped the urn off at his apartment, and re-packed his backpack for the night. While Hank waited, he looked through the posters and photos that were hung on the walls. He didn't think Connor could look even more baby-faced, but the photos of him graduating high school and in college showed otherwise. There was even a photo of him with Amanda and Craig; all smiling. 

 

He was interrupted by the sound of something crashing to the floor. He turned quickly to see that Connor had knocked over a table lamp off his desk trying to reach something. Hank moved in closer to help, only for Connor to raise up a hand to stop him. “I've got it,” he said, picking up the lamp and shaking the shattered remains of the lightbulb into a trashcan. He scooped up some of the larger pieces with his hands, and was a little stunned when Hank appeared at his side with a dustpan and a kind smile.

 

They cleared away the glass before locking up and leaving. Sumo greeted them happily at the door of Hank’s place,  his large tail whacking them excitedly. Connor slumped his bag down by the bedroom, “Whatcha feeling for takeout? The place I usually order from makes great lo mein…” Hank offered, handing Connor a menu. 

 

He took the folded paper silently, “Its been awhile since I've had sesame chicken. Can I get the combo?” He asked. 

Hank winked, “Of course, I'll call it in now.” Hank went to the bedroom to place the delivery order, counting out the cash in his wallet as the lady on the line gave him the total. “It’ll be about half an hour…” he said, locating Connor on the couch with an entire bottle of whiskey in his grip. The cap was screwed off, so Hank gathered that he probably had a sip or two already.

 

He put on a jazz album, just some easy listening until the food got there. They handed the bottle back and forth, until Connor spilled a little on his dress shirt. “About time we got comfy anyway… yeah?” Hank said, already undoing his tie. There was a knock at the door, and Hank went to the door as Connor escaped to the bedroom to change.

 

“Thank you,” Hank said to the driver, giving him a good tip and setting the bag down on the kitchen table. He knocked before entering the bedroom, catching a glimpse of Connor’s belly button before a hoodie was thrown over his head. No pants, just boxer briefs. 

 

Connor’s face finally broke as the edges of his lips curved into a small, bashful smile upon the realization that Hank was staring from the doorway

 

This deadly combination was enough for Hank to get a half-chub in his uncomfortably tight dress pants. 

 

He stuck his tongue out, removing his own clothes before grabbing a tshirt and pants from his dresser. Before he could get the shirt on, he felt Connor wrap his arms around his belly, head pressed on his back. This wasn't exactly helping Hank conceal his growing boner.

 

He turned around to get a good look at the warm, brown eyes that looked up at him. The edges of the eyelids started to radiate with a tinge of scarlet red. Connor let out a small, sputtered breath as he leaned into Hank again, his shoulders shaking. The cold, numbness that had been hovering around Connor the hold day was finally melting away. The warmth of Hank’s chest upon his cheek was addictively comforting; he could feel Hank’s pulse, steady and rhythmic. 

  
“I gotta put my shirt on, Connor…” Hank insisted gently, leaning down to kiss the top of his head as he pried the young man off. He pulled the shirt over his head, and then immediately pulled Connor back in, earning a surprised gasp. But the second he was pressed against Hank once more, the floodgates opened.   
  
It started off slow; Hank held him close as a few sniffles escaped. His hands retreated from around Hank’s neck to cover his eyes, head slowly dropping as his shoulder shook. “It’s okay… it’s okay to cry, Connor…” The words shattered all of Connor’s attempts at trying to hold down the painful sadness, and Hank walked him over to the bed before he could collapse to the floor. They sat on the edge of the mattress, Connor’s face buried in a pillow while Hank rubbed his shoulders. It got to a point where it made Hank feel ill just hearing the painful cries, but could not bring himself to stop it. He had days like this; the insatiable  _ need _ to cry and release all of the tension that had built up inside.    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short update... i realized i had enough to post *something*, and I've started working on the next chapter (slowly but surely)
> 
> Find me on Twitter: @canticumexvacui

**Author's Note:**

> Been working on this for a few days, now. It would be very helpful to get some feedback! There will be some twists and developments left out of the tags for now so they aren't spoiled.
> 
> <3 Thank you readers!!


End file.
